


A Christmas Invitation

by TheNerveToServe



Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas fic, Found Family, Gen, father & son relationship, show verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNerveToServe/pseuds/TheNerveToServe
Summary: While Troy's work ethic (boarding on becoming a workaholic) might be good for his career, Barnaby feels that it is not so helpful for his Christmas holiday. That being said, there might be a reason why Troy voluntarily works through his holidays rather then takes them off.
Relationships: Tom Barnaby & Gavin Troy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	A Christmas Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Written after watching "Ghosts of Christmas Past" and becoming slightly salty that we never got a Christmas episode during the Troy era. That train of thought led to me considering how Troy does not seem to be the most 'celebratory' man in Midsomer County which coupled with discussions I've had with/read about First Responders often dreading holidays because the amount of trouble goes up exponentially over those periods of time. It all coalesced into this fic. 
> 
> Made up a few notes on Troy's backstory since the series is pretty tight-lipped about his life in general. I own nothing--it all belongs to Caroline Graham and the creators of the television program.

Detective Sargent Gavin Troy placed a steadying hand on the stack of folders Constable Harris had just carefully deposited on the corner of his desk. Even with the support, they still wobbled ominously and Troy quickly applied more pressure. Harris brushed some paper dust off his uniform jumper and shot Troy an apologetic look. “You really don’t have to do this, Sargent. It’s **my** paperwork.” 

“I worked on this case too so I’m familiar with it. Besides, I’ve already cleared it with the governors.” Troy tapped his fingers against the pile of folders. A few of the top ones shifted under the movement, causing Troy to wince and steady his hand again. 

“But it’s Christmas Eve, sir!” 

Troy met Harris’s half-hearted protest with a shake of his head. “So it is Harris but I don’t have a new baby in the house, a mother visiting from London and in-laws who came over from Wales just to spend Christmas with my family.” Troy clapped the constable on the shoulder with his free hand before gesturing toward the door, “Now you better get home before Meredith calls here looking for you.” 

Before Troy could fully pull his hand away, Harris caught it in a strong handshake, “Thank you sir! And Happy Christmas!” 

“Happy Christmas.” Troy returned cheerfully as Harris hurried for the door. When the door closed, he sighed a bit, his cheerfulness slipping when he eyed the pile of paperwork he had assigned to himself. Breaking the pile in half, thus reducing the risk of a catastrophic cascade, he pulled his suitcoat off, dropped it over the back of his chair and sat down. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the first file off the top of the nearest stack, flipped it open and began working. 

A few minutes later the door to the office opened again. “The meeting is done and I’m off Tro—Good Lord,” Tom Barnaby came to a stop in front of Troy’s desk, eyes widening as he took in the stack of files. “Where did all of that come from? Your desk was clean an hour ago.” 

“Constable Harris, sir.” Troy looked up from the paperwork, “I told him I’d finish it up for him while he went home to the wife and baby.” 

“Well that’s very generous of you, Troy.” Barnaby folded his coat over his arm, “But I hope you’re not going to spend **your** entire Christmas doing paperwork. Ambition is fine and all but you’re liable to take root behind that desk at the rate you’re going.”

Scrawling his name at the bottom of the sheet, Troy turned it over and looked up at his boss again. “There’s only a few hours’ worth of work here, sir, and it’s extra pay. Happy House will still be open by the time I’m done and the pub too probably.” 

“So that’s going to be your Christmas then, Troy? Paperwork, Chinese food and a pint?” Barnaby sighed and Troy could not tell if the sound was entirely accepting or somewhat judgmental. “What about your mum? Or are you going to be visiting her tomorrow?”

Definitely a touch judgmental then. “Not this year I’m afraid, sir. She’s spending Christmas in Florida. Miami actually.” 

“Miami.” Barnaby rose both eyebrows and a teasing lilt entered his voice, “And she didn’t invite you to go along?” 

“No.” Troy chuckled, “Besides, I wouldn’t want to go and babysit my mum and a bunch of old ladies sitting around in the sun, knitting probably.” Seeing the question starting to appear in Barnaby’s expression, he added a few more pertinent details, “Apparently some friend of Mum’s from school got a windfall when her husband had a convenient heart attack a few months back. Mrs. Barasworth’s decided the only way to face the holidays this year was to get all her old friends together and go to the US.” 

“Aaah. Another Merry Widow then.” Barnaby nodded and then added, “Still, even a ‘bunch of old ladies’ as you call them are more than capable of letting their hair down…especially in a city like Miami. It’s just as well you stayed here to do paperwork Troy—you might have seen a side of your mother you aren’t ready to confront.” 

Troy’s eyes widened but before the horrified expression could truly settle in, Barnaby clapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe next year you should take a note from your mum---go on a holiday for your holidays.” 

Shaking his head to remove whatever mental image Barnaby’s words had inspired, Troy shrugged. “Maybe. Not much of a one for holidays though, sir. Well…the official ones anyways.” 

Barnaby smiled slightly. Troy was not much of a one for ‘holidays’ by any definition of the word. In all the years, almost six now, that Barnaby had known the young man, Troy almost never called in sick and hardly ever took time off. To his recollection, the young man had taken an emergency trip to Belfast when his grandmother unexpectedly took ill, had gone on a mountaineering trip to Norway, and took a few weekend trips to visit friends or family in various parts of the United Kingdom. That was it. 

For the most part, the young man was transforming into a workaholic. Barnaby had lost count of the number of mornings he had come in to find Troy already at his desk, scarfing a breakfast sandwich while he read paperwork, or all of the evenings when he had gone home to dinner while Troy was still working on his computer. Sometimes the only assurance he had that Troy had actually gone back to his flat the night before was that his Sargent was wearing a new suit when he saw him next. There was a reason why Troy was flying up the ranks at his young age but the cost was growing steeper. 

That boy needed a wife….or at least a dog. He needed some incentive to return home at a reasonable hour. Cartons of Chinese food and a pint were poor substitutes for company. 

His Sargent’s love life or lack thereof, was not Barnaby’s concern however. Troy had already returned to his paperwork, assuming that Barnaby’s silence meant he had no further interest in their conversation. 

Barnaby knew he should say his farewells and head on home to Joyce and Cully. On the verge of doing so, another thought sprang into his mind and slipped out his open mouth, “Are there any holidays that you celebrate, Troy? I just thought about it and I can’t recall you ever mentioning attending Halloween party or Christmas services or…any kind of celebration really.” 

“I just told you sir, I’m not much of a one for holidays. They’re a lot of fuss and all it really generates is more work for us.” Troy looked up again, tilting his head as if confused by the question. 

Now thoroughly intrigued by the younger man’s reply, Barnaby dropped down in a chair usually used by visitors. “How so, Troy?” 

Troy’s head tilted a few more degrees to the side. “Well…take Christmas, sir. To me, all it really boils down to is breaking up domestics where couples are hitting each other over the head with decorations because someone spent too much money on Catty Aunt Cathy. Halloween, its pub fights and drunkards in costumes wrecking everything they can get their hands on. Property defaced, landscaping ruined…you’ve seen the reports yourself, sir. Guy Fawkes? Idiots….idiots everywhere and armed with fireworks to boot.” He rolled his eyes before straightening his head up, “Now Easter’s not so bad…but mind you, back when I was in Uniform I was once called to break up a catfight between two church ladies when they started brawling over whose kid found the pink Easter egg. Getting the picture, sir?” 

Barnaby shook his head but not in denial of Troy’s statements. He had also worked uniform for years before his promotions and he saw the reports every year. He knew everything his Sergeant said was true…but the young man was taking it rather more personally than most. “You’re too young to be so cynical, Troy. What about when you were a boy? Didn’t you have any good holidays then? At least then you could escape from your dreaded Causton Comprehensive, couldn’t you?”

An odd look entered Troy’s eyes, as often did when anyone tried to draw out information about his childhood. For reasons Barnaby could not fully comprehend, Troy always played his cards very close to his chest where his personal life was concerned. Then the Sargent shrugged, “They weren’t so bad then but after my grandfather died we…we didn’t celebrate much ourselves. He was the church-goer who liked the big dinners.” 

Barnaby’s eyebrows drew together thoughtfully as Troy finished speaking. Troy mentioned his mother often enough, and Barnaby had even met the woman several times, but he almost never mentioned any other relatives, even his father. The only solid reference Barnaby had ever received about Troy Senior was that the man got Troy hooked on a comic series when he was six. Troy treated the comic books with a reverence that seemed unfitting for such a childish item but, other than that, there was no mention of the man. He suspected that for, whatever reason; the man had never been overly present in Troy’s life. Paired with a hard-working mother…well….it was a reasonable assumption that grabbing Chinese take-away and a drink had been Troy’s Christmas Eve tradition long before he started taking on other peoples’ paperwork. 

“Tell you what, Troy.” Barnaby stood up again and began pulling his coat on, “Come by the house tomorrow. My in-laws couldn’t make it this year due to the weather,” he cast his eyes heavenward in a tiny prayer of thanks, “So it’s just going to be Joyce, Cully, and myself.” 

Troy’s eyes widened slightly. He had gone over to Barnaby’s house several times for dinner in the past, and his own mother had insisted on hosting the Barnanbys’ at least twice, but Troy had never gone over for Christmas. He had always gone over to his mother’s house instead. “Oh…I wouldn’t want to get in the way, sir.” He protested automatically. 

“Nonsense.” Barnaby grimaced quickly. “You’ll be doing Cully and I a favor actually. Joyce bought enough food to feed us, her parents, and probably half the street as well. Since Cully’s going back to London on the 27th, everything **you** eat is one **less** Casserole Surprise that **I** have to get through later on.” 

“Well…when you put it that way, sir…” Troy grinned, “What time do you want me to come over?” 

“Oh…around 1’o’clock should do quite nicely, Troy. That is, if you survive your paperwork and Chinese tonight.” 

Troy chuckled and reached over to catch the outer pile before it could slide off his desk. “If I’m not there by half-one, you’ll know what happened.” 

Closing his coat, Barnaby shook his head, “Hopefully it won’t come to that. I’d rather you come over for Christmas dinner instead of me spending my holiday investigating your mysterious disappearance.” 

“Noted,” Troy finally took a generous stack of the folders and placed them on the floor against his desk. “I’ll take that as a direct order then.” 

“See that you do. Sargent.” Barnaby started for the door, paused, and turned back around to see Troy diving back into his paperwork. “Happy Christmas, Troy.” 

Troy looked up quickly, his lips turning up at the corners and brightening his eyes, “Happy Christmas, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Happy House Chinese Restaurant is mentioned in "Orchis Fatalis", Series 8, episode 3


End file.
